Revenge
by lady what's-her-face
Summary: MegErik. The night the opera burns, Meg unwittingly follows Erik down the tunnel. Anything else I say will give the rest of it away
1. down once more

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone here other than Amy. Unfortunately.

_italics are flashbacks…_in case you were wondering

Constructive criticism is welcomed, but please, no flames.

Chapter One

"Track down this murderer!"

"He must be found!"

I can hear the cries of the angry mob following me as I wade through the knee-deep water. They're looking for the Phantom. I am too, but I'm more worried about Christine. I love her to death, but she doesn't have much common sense and might do something stupid if I don't find her soon. The mob doesn't seem to know where we're going, but I do. I've been this way countless time before.

_I make my way through the murky water down to the Phantom's lair. Mama has warned me away from here countless times, but once I found out what was down here, I could not keep myself from coming back. I have gone down here about once a week for a few months now, to spy on the Phantom. I suppose my fascination with him must be unhealthy, but I can't help myself. Thoughts of him, and his enchanting voice, are always on my mind. I can't get them out, no matter how hard I try. I know he is deformed, and has murdered at least one person, if not more (Mama didn't know that I overheard a conversation about the Phantom that she had with Papa before he died) but I still keep wandering down here. I'm pretty sure that no one knows, as I try to go after all of the other girls are asleep. He is always awake though, playing music or drawing. But this night is different. As I walk down, I can hear not only the Phantom's familiar tenor, but a soprano voice as well. The soprano seems familiar too. I turn around the corner to see…of course. Of course it's her. Of course, she gets the Phantom as her voice coach, getting her the lead. That's how things always have been. She's the better singer, dancer, everything. It makes sense that the Phantom would want to teach her. I think of Christine as my sister, but I can help but envy her. She is everything that I wish I was, and everything that I will never be. I turn back the way I came, a bitter smile on my face. _

With a shake of my head, I come back to the present. There's no use in dwelling on the past now. Christine has gone and angered the Phantom. Stupid girl. Does she have any idea what she's done? The opera house is burning above me, and with it, all my dreams for the future. I hear voices approaching and I press myself up against the wall, hoping that whoever it is won't see me. It's Christine and Raoul in a boat, heading out of his lair. So, Christine won't have to worry about the opera burning. She's going to be a rich Vicomtess , and will never have to do another days work in her life. Lucky Christine, perfect Christine, sweet Christine. I can hear the echoes of a thousand "why can't you be more like Christine?"s ringing in my ears as I continue on through the water.

I hear the noise of breaking glass and rush on. I arrive at the lair with the mob, but see no signs of the Phantom. Except… his white mask, lying on a chair. It seems to glow in the candle light

After a while the mob gets bored and gradually disperses, until I am the only one left in the lair. I look around, amazed at the beauty of the place. Statues, paintings, rugs, curtains… if it weren't for the rock walls and the lake, I could have sworn that I was in the parlor of a grand household. Not that I would know what that would look like. I see some broken glass on the floor. That must have been what I heard breaking earlier. I go over to see what was broken. There seem to be several broken mirrors and… I lift up a curtain covering what looks like a mirror to reveal… a tunnel? That must have been where the Phantom went. As I peer inside, a burning beam falls near my feet, setting part of the room on fire. The fire above must have spread, and now there is no way for me to get out except… through the tunnel. I take a deep breath and step in, the curtain falling shut behind me.


	2. anger

Hi! This chapter and the next were originally going to be one chapter, but I decided to break it down into two, because otherwise it felt too long. So yeah, I'm back to a place where I can update so… enjoy!

_italics _are still flashbacks...

Disclaimer: I (sadly) don't own any of these characters other than Amy.

Chapter Two

**Meg POV**

The tunnel is completely dark as I make my way through it. It seems to be going down even deeper under the Opera House, deeper than I thought possible. The floor is slippery, and I fall down several times, but am thankfully not badly hurt. I wonder where this tunnel goes? Hopefully out of the Opera House. Since there is no way to go but forward, I continue on through the darkness, thinking over recent events as I go.

The Phantom. I pause for a moment, realizing that I may be stuck in a tunnel alone with an angry murderer, but continue on, realizing that there is nothing that I can do about it now. I feel like I know him, having watched him for so long, but I don't even know his name, if he even has one. How horrible he must feel, being abandoned like that by Christine. My thoughts turn away from him and land on…

Raoul. I think back onto when he first came into our lives, what was it… three months ago? It feels so much longer. So much has changed… I remember that I had a slight crush on him when he first came here, but gave up on that when I realized that he only had eyes for Christine. I can see why many people might say that he is to blame for these events, but I place the blame solely on…

Christine. Well. I'm still too mad at her to even think about her right now. She might have spared everyone a lot or grief if it weren't for her indecisiveness. If she had just made her choice clear at the beginning, we wouldn't have had to deal with all of this drama. I don't mean Bouquet's murder; he was worse than a rat and deserved to die. I mean the burning of the Opera House and putting us all out of our jobs. Honestly, Christine has no foresight at all. She didn't realize how dangerous of a game she was playing until it was too late. And also, she's so very shallow…

"_Oh, but Christine, the Phantom may be scary, but he is also a genius. And that voice! How could you not love that voice?"_

"_Well Meg, his voice may be beautiful, but you haven't seen his face. It's…hideous! How _could_ I love him? How could anyone love him, with so ugly a face?" She shudders._

Preoccupied with my thoughts, I don't pay attention to where I'm going, and I walk into something that feels like a wall… but warmer.

**Erik POV**

I storm down the tunnel, no longer sad, but horribly, murderously angry. I do not bother to light any of the torches along the walls. I know where this tunnel leads, but I had hoped that I'd never have to use it. My thoughts turn to why I am making this journey, and my blood seems to boil with anger. The Vicomte. Before he cam here everything was perfect. Christine was on her way to becoming the next Prima Donna and thought of me as her angel. But then the night that that… _boy_ showed up, everything changed. Suddenly I was no longer an angel, but a demon, something to be avoided and eventually destroyed. And every time she tired to come back to me, he would be there, poisoning her mind against me with words like "freak" and "murderer". Curse that boy to a thousand depths of hell! I have stopped walking and am just standing in the tunnel, seething in anger, and thinking of all the ways that I could do away with the vicomte and make it seem like an accident, when something, or someone, walks into me. Cursing myself for leaving my lasso behind, I grab the neck of the person in front of me.

**Meg POV**

I can't breathe. He has his hands around my throat.

"No! Please…" Is all I can get out before I lose consciousness


	3. confusion

Ok, sorry I haven't updated in a while, but I've been _really_ busy. But I realized that this seemed to be headed the same way my other story went, and I really didn't want that to happen, so, I'll try to finish this one, but don't expect very frequent updates.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters other than Amy. Damn.

Chapter Three

**Later…**

I slowly come to, disoriented. Where am I? I look around and it all comes back to me: the fire, the tunnel, someone choking me… I feel a hand on my shoulder and spin around. It's the Phantom, staring down at me. If looks could kill… He doesn't have his mask on, and his face fascinates me. I know it's rude, but I can't stop staring. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. It seems so out of place on the rest of his body. I blush as I catch myself staring at his chest. But who wouldn't stare? It's… perfect. Not that I have much experience in judging men's' chests. But still…How could Christine think he was ugly? I guess she fixated on his face and not the rest of his body. I bring my eyes back up to his face and realize that he is still glaring at me.

"Are you planning on telling me what on earth you are doing here, or are you just going to stand there staring. I know it's ugly, but I would have imagined that your mother taught you better manners than that." He pauses and his scowl deepens. "Well?"

It takes me a while to find my voice. "I…I…The fire. The roof was falling, and there was no where else to go. I can leave." I try to stand up, but he pushes me back down.

"Do you think that I would let you leave so you can go running off to tell everyone where I am? I think not." He grins evilly.

"So, what am I to do then? I can't just stay in this tunnel foreve--" I stop talking as a terrible thought comes to me. He could kill me now, and no one would ever know. They would all think that I had died in the fire. He laughs and I look up at him in shock.

"Do you really think that I would kill you? Well, yes, I suppose you do. Is that what they say about me in the dormitories? That I kill little ballet girls just for fun? And grind their bones to make bread? I would have thought you smarter than to believe such rumors, Mademoiselle Giry." I must have looked confused, for he continues "You wonder how I know your name? I know everything that goes on in this Opera House. Everything, down to the number of ballet shoes ordered each year. So, naturally, I know everything about you. I know that when you were five, you stole a pastry out of the kitchens, and that you still feel guilty about it. I know that you couldn't cry at all when your father died, no matter how hard you tried. And I know that although you are her friend, you are insanely jealous of Mademoiselle Daae, and that you would love to watch her crawl. Am I not right, my dear?" The endearment at the end sounds as if it is the worst of insults. It infuriates me that he knows all this, and knows that he's right. Before I realize it, I am yelling at him

"So? You think you know all there ids to know about me? Well, you are not as mysterious as you may think. For everything you may know about me, I know something about you. I know that you have exactly 1379 paintings, drawings or sketches of Christine to date. I know that the ring you bought her was an aquamarine, not a sapphire like she thought it was. And I know that however much you may care about her, she will never, _ever_ love you. Who could? If you were as mean to her as you are to me, maybe you deser--" He cuts me off.

"Oh, and what makes you think you know anything about this, Mademoiselle? What would you know of love, when the closest you've ever come to it is a peck on the cheek?" He has hit a nerve, and he knows it. Damn him.

"Well maybe I am not as "experienced" as I might be, but who are you to talk? When Christine kissed you just now, that was your first kiss ever, I'll warrant. Am I right?" I stare at him, daring him to refuse.

"No." He won't elaborate. I look at him and realize that while we were yelling at each other, we got closer to each other, so that there is barely an inch between us. He seems to notice this at the same time I do, for he locks eyes with me, his gaze turning suddenly very sensual. My knees start to shake.

"Never been kissed before?" he murmurs, looking down at my lips, "Well, that can be easily fixed, can't it?" And before I can even think of what to say, much less say it, he is kissing me, and I can hardly remember my own name, much less why I was angry with him. Oh God… he definitely has kissed someone before, no one can be this good at this naturally. His hands come around my waist, pulling me closer to him. My brain is trying to come up with reasons arguments for why this is wrong, but the rest of me has already made up its mind, and blocks my brain out, for a while at least.

please review! they make me want to update.


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